


Tale As Old As Time

by DropofWater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drama Teacher Stiles, Elementary School, M/M, School Play, Teacher Stiles, hot dad derek hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropofWater/pseuds/DropofWater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Went to an elementary school play last night, and was inspired to write about Hot Single Dad Derek Hale and Drama Club Teacher Stiles</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tale As Old As Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://tumblweedblr.tumblr.com)

Derek has been sitting in his car for 30 minutes.  He glances at the clock again. Make that 31 minutes.

He peers out the window at the Elementary School’s front doors and still sees no movement.  Aggravated, he opens his car door and gets out, slamming the door shut behind him.

He can feel the judgmental stares coming from the other parents who are sitting in the line of cars behind him. Unlike him, they, apparently, are content to sit in their car for endless amounts of time.

He swings the doors to the school open and walks swiftly down the hall until he gets to the auditorium.  He can hear the high-pitched noises of children singing even before he enters.

One he’s inside, he scans the auditorium, eyes flitting across the kids gathered on the stage, until he finds what he’s looking for.  ’Mr. Stiles!’ as his daughter Tara calls him.

Mr. Stiles is sitting at a piano in front of the stage, playing an obnoxiously loud version of “Be Our Guest.”  From behind all Derek can see is dark hair, pale skin, and rolled up sleeves on a button down shirt. 

Derek walks quickly down the aisle between the rows of seats. Strong, veined arms come into view the closer he gets to to the piano.

When he reaches it, he waits until Mr. Stiles stops playing before speaking up.

“Mr. Stiles?” he calls out angrily.

Mr. Stiles jumps up from his seat and whirls around.  “Holy sh…amrocks!” he exclaims, clutching a hand to his chest.  “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Mr. Stiles pushes a pair of black framed glasses back up from where they’ve slid down his nose and takes a real look at Derek. “Okay, there’s a second heart attack.”

 

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, but Stiles plunders on.

“Who are you? Are you here to kidnap the kids? Because I’ll have you know that I used to do Karate. In high school, but I’m sure I’ve retained some of the skills.”  Mr. Stiles is waving his arms wildly in the air.

Derek glares at him. “I’m Tara’s dad.”

Mr. Stiles’ face lights up. “Oh! Our little Belle! Did you stop in to see how good she is? That’s a spoiler. Definitely not allowed. You’ll have to wait until the show, just like everybody else. No special treatment just because you’re related to the star.”

“No,” Derek pauses, shifting uncomfortably before remembering what he’s so annoyed about. “I came to pick her up. Practice was supposed to end 20 minutes ago.”

Mr. Stiles looks down at his watch, exposing a spattering of moles on the side of his face. “Oh, well, you know how it goes. Time flies, and all that. We were just  _so_  close to getting the kitchen scene right, and I couldn’t just stop it there. There’s no way they’d retain that progress until tomorrow.”

Derek just glares at him. “They’re children.”

Mr. Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “So?”

“So I think maybe you’re taking this a little too seriously.”

Mr. Stiles takes a step back.  _“Excuse me?”_

“It’s a kid’s play. They’re not about to win any Oscars,” Derek huffs.

Mr. Stiles just stares at him indignantly. “That doesn’t mean it’s not  _important_ ,” he finally says, voice as cold as ice. He turns back around to face the stage again.

“We’re running this scene one more time. Then I’ll let them go,” he shoots over his shoulder. “But you need to leave. Like I said, no spoilers.”

Derek doesn’t plan on moving, but Mr. Stiles stares him down until Derek rolls his eyes and backs out of the auditorium, making his way back to his car.

When Tara finally comes out of the school, she throws herself into the back seat, curly black hair swinging across her face. “Daddy! We practiced and Mr. Stiles said I did the Ballroom dance  _perfect.”_  Her slight lisp means  _Mr. Stiles_  comes out sounding more like  _Mr. Thtiles_.

_“_ Perfect _ly_ ,” Derek corrects, leaning back to plant a kiss on her forehead. “And of course you did. You’re a star!”

Tara beams at him.  Then she furrows her brow suddenly. “Mr. Stiles  _also_ said to tell my grumpy daddy that practice is until 4 tomorrow.”

“Four?!” Derek groans. “That guy has no respect…” he trails off when he sees the glare Tara is giving him.  It looks eerily similar to Derek’s own standard glare.

“Mr. Stiles says it’s very important to get as much practice as we can. He says that’s what professional actors do.”

Derek rolls his eyes as he turns the keys in the ignition. “Of course he does.”

 —

The next day, Wednesday, Derek find himself waiting outside of the school  _again_ , and it’s 4:10.  When the clock hits 4:11, he storms out of his car and straight into the auditorium. 

The kids are packing up and putting on their backpacks while Mr. Stiles shouts directions at them. “Don’t forget to bring your music tomorrow!”  He calls out before he turns around and sees Derek, startling again.

“Oh my God you have  _got_  to stop doing that,” he cries as his arms flail through the air. “Where do you even come from?”

“My car,” Derek deadpans. “Where I’ve been sitting for the past 20 minutes.”

“You in a rush to get somewhere?” Mr. Stiles asks. He gives Derek a once-over.

“Yes, actually,” Derek retorts. “And I left in the middle of working to get here.”

Mr. Stiles grins at him, “Yeah? In your sweatpants?” He gestures at Derek-who is, in fact, wearing a pair of old gray sweatpants paired with a ratty t-shirt that with a hole in the sleeve.

"I work from home," is all Derek can manage. "And we have a routine we follow. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have a kid.”

Derek doesn’t actually know whether or not Mr. Stiles has a kid, it’s just a wild guess based on the fact that Mr. Stiles isn’t wearing a wedding band.  Which doesn’t actually mean anything, since Derek has a kid and isn’t wearing one either. Not that he’s thought about the status of Mr. Stiles’ ring finger at all.

Mr. Stiles freezes and pins Derek with a hard look.  Slowly, he bites out a reply. “You’re right, I don’t have a kid…I have 25. And yet I’m  _still_  expected to show up to teach them every day in khakis and a tie.”

Mr. Stiles has rendered Derek speechless. It’s not often that someone will match Derek’s snark, and he’s a little flustered by Stiles’ response.

Luckily, Tara chooses that moment to run up to them.

“Daddy!” she screeches.  She lifts her arms in the air and Derek picks her up automatically.  She wraps her arms around his neck while turning to Mr. Stiles. “This is my daddy!” she exclaims. “He’s the best daddy in the whole wide world.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Stiles answers with a sly grin on his face.

“Yupp! Don’t you think he’s just the greatest?”

Mr. Stiles smiles even bigger and leans forward to brush a curl out of her face. “I can think of a few choice words for him.”

“Like bestest and wonderful and  _super?”_  Tara asks.  Derek can’t help laughing out loud at that.

“ _Just_  like those,” Mr. Stiles responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tara smiles brightly. “He makes me sammiches, and braids my hair, and for my birthday he even lets me eat TWO piece of chocolate cake!”

Mr. Stiles just looks at them both for a moment. “Sounds great!” he says half-heartedly.  He’s looking at Derek with an amount of scrutiny that makes Derek shift his own eyes away anxiously.

“We’ve got to go,” Derek says. “What time is practice over tomorrow?”

“3:30,” Mr. Stiles responds.

Derek quirks an eyebrow at him. “What time is practice  _actually_ going to be over tomorrow?”

Mr. Stiles sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “3:45.”

 —

At 3:50 the next day, the kids come running out of the school.  Derek spots Tara skipping out…with Mr. Stiles at her side. Great.  They both come over to the car, and Mr. Stiles opens the door and helps her inside.  Then he leans inside the open passenger side window.

“So I’ve noticed you haven’t bought any tickets to the show yet,” he says.

Derek sighs and taps his hand on his steering wheel. “Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to. I just forgot. How much are they?”

“$10.  Mr. Stiles says.  Do you just want to buy them now? We’re already getting close to selling out.”

“Really?” Derek asks in surprise.

Mr. Stiles positively beams at him. “Yes, Mr. Hale.  Most people actually appreciate seeing the result of all of their child’s hard work.”

Derek gives him a fake smile in return. “And  _some_  people like to get home from picking up their kids at a decent hour.”

Mr. Stiles snorts. “You make fun now, but all of this will be worth it in the end, you’ll see.”

Derek sighs. “I guess.”

“So how many tickets do you want?” Stiles asks.

“One,” Derek responds quickly.

Mr. Stiles hesitates. “One?”

“Yes. One,” Derek repeats.

“Just you then? No other relatives?”

Derek grits his teeth. “There’s no one-yes,  just me.”

He pulls out a $10 bill from his wallet, mostly to avoid meeting the strange look Mr. Stiles is now giving him.  He hands it over, and Mr. Stiles takes it from him gently. “I’l put you down for one ticket,” he says.

“Thanks,” Derek grunts.

“No problem,” Mr. Stiles responds. “We’ll be done at 3:30 tomorrow.” He leans into the backseat. “See you tomorrow, my Belle!”

“Bye Mr. Stiles!” she calls from the backseat.

 —

When Derek arrives at the school at 3:30 on Friday, Tara and the other kids are already outside, sitting on the steps to the school.  He pulls up and Tara walks slowly over to his car.  She slides into her seat without a word.

“Everything okay?” Derek asks.

“Mr. Stiles needs a nap,” she responds.

“Why do you say that?”

Tara sighs sadly. “Because he got all sad and angry like the way I do when  _I_  need a nap.  He even ended rehearsal early because he was so sad.”

Derek glances at the building. “What was he sad about?”

Tara picks at the hem of her skirt. “I don’t know. But he got  _very_  loud.  Mr. Stiles  _never_  gets loud.”  She pouts. “I didn’t like it.”

Derek hesitates before sighing heavily and opening his car door. “Okay, climb back out, princess.  We’re going inside for a minute okay?”

Tara clambers out and takes the hand he offers her; small fingers sliding into his palm. “Why are we going inside?” she asks.

“We’re going to see Mr. Stiles.”

Tara stops walking. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He was  _super_  upset.”

“Well maybe he just needs someone to talk to,” Derek responds.

Still, Derek walks into the auditorium hesitantly.  He doesn’t see Mr. Stiles anywhere, but after a few moments he does hear a loud crash coming from the stage, followed by the sounds of, “CRABCAKES,” yelled out from behind a tall piece of wood that’s painted like a tree.

Derek sits Tara down in an auditorium chair and carefully makes his way onto the stage.

“Mr. Stiles?” he asks gently as he reaches where Mr. Stiles is perched on the floor.  He has a hammer in one hand and the contents of a box of nails are strewn on the floor around him.

“ _Cheese and rice!_ ,” Mr. Stiles exclaims. “Of course it’s you.  Sneaking up again. What do you want?”

Derek pauses, realizing he maybe hasn’t really thought this through.

“Practice ended early,” he finally states.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got an entire set to put together before tomorrow’s dress rehearsal, so I need all the time I can get,” Mr. Stiles replies huffily. “The kids painted all of the pieces in art class, which were supposed to be done last week, but here they are today.”

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but Mr. Stiles just rambles on. “So  _now_  all 147 skinny pounds of me has to put all of this up, by myself, by tomorrow night. I’ll be here all night tonight,  _and_  all day tomorrow at this rate. And here I thought I’d left all-nighters behind in college…”

When Derek’s sure Stiles is truly done talking, he responds “Sorry,” he says stupidly.

Mr. Stiles sighs and sits up, looking through his glasses up at Derek.  His eyes widen suddenly and Derek gets a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey,” Mr. Stiles says, “You’ve got some muscles.”

Derek immediately crosses his arms over his chest. “No, I don’t.”

Mr. Stiles is nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, you do.”

Derek’s face heats up as Stiles continues. “You know what those muscles could be good for?”

Derek raises both eyebrows at Mr. Stiles and his mouth suddenly runs dry.

He clears his throat. “Um…I don’t…”

Mr. Stiles clasps his hands together, and moves to stand up in front of Derek. “Please help me. _Please_. I’m literally begging you.”

“With what?” Derek asks, completely confused.

“With putting the set together,” Mr. Stiles responds, gesturing to the complete chaos of brightly painted wooden structures around them.

Mr. Stiles’ eyes are wide and amber colored, staring into Derek’s with so much hope that Derek literally feels his defenses crumbling inside of him.

“Ugh, fine,” he finally agrees. 

Mr. Stiles’ shoulders sag in relief.

“But not tonight,” Derek continues. “Tonight is Disney movie night,” He gestures to where Tara is sitting. “It’s a tradition.”

Mr. Stiles’ mouth quirks up slightly. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”

“ _Tangled_. Again,” Derek answers.

Mr. Stiles nods, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “That’s a good one. But I like  _Frozen_  even better.”

“Me too,” Derek sighs. “There’s more action.  But Tara doesn’t like the snow monster.”

“He’s the best part!” Mr. Stiles argues.

“No. Olaf’s the best part,” Derek counters.

Mr. Stiles laughs out loud. “Okay, true. But the snow monster is the  _second best_.”

“I can agree with you there,” Derek says.

A moment of silent falls, and Derek suddenly remembers what he’s doing there.  “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Does 8am work for you?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. “That’d be great.”

“Okay,” Derek responds with a nod. “Go home. Take a nap. Tara says you need one.”

Mr. Stiles barks out another laugh. “She’s not wrong,” he says. “I haven’t slept properly in _weeks_.”

“Just because of this show?” Derek asks indignantly.

Mr. Stiles gives him a wry grin. “You know, you keep saying things like that, but come Sunday, you’ll find out-it’s all completely worth it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Derek replied.  “See you tomorrow.”

 —

The next morning, Derek shows up at the school at 8am, donned in a pair of paint-covered jeans and a t-shirt from his high school days. Tara is sstill sleepily nuzzled on his shoulder, and he finds Mr. Stiles waiting for him in the auditorium. Mr. Stiles is holding two coffee cups and he immediately hands one to Derek when he puts Tara down.

“Thanks,” Derek says.

“No, thank  _you_.  You’re saving my life here,” Mr. Stiles responds.  He turns and bends down to look at Tara, who is now standing with one arm wrapped around Derek’s leg.

“Morning, my Belle!” he says. “You all ready for our  _last_  rehearsal tonight?”

Tara nods enthusiastically, her curls bouncing along around her face. “You bet! I’m gonna be my bestest Belle yet!”

“That’s my girl!” Mr. Stiles cheers, reaching out a hand for her to high five.  He straightens back up and looks at Derek. “Ready to get started?”

“Yeah, let me just get her set up here,” Derek responds.  He pulls Tara’s backpack off of her back and takes out a coloring book, crayons, and a juice box.

“You okay to play down here?” he says. “We’re gonna be working with dangerous stuff on the stage, so make sure you don’t come up there, okay?”

Tara nods seriously. “Okay, daddy.”

Derek follows Mr. Stiles onto the stage, looking around at the complete chaos around them.

“So…Mr. Stiles, where do we start?” he asks.

“You can start by just calling me Stiles,” Stiles responds.

“Stiles is your first name?”

Stiles waves a hand in the air. “Yeah. Last name’s Stilinski, but that’s way too hard for the little ones, so I just make my name sound formal by putting a  _Mr_. in front of it.”

“Not sure there’s a way to make  _Stiles_  sound formal,” Derek states jokingly. “I’m Derek, by the way.”

Stiles nods. “Okay, Derek…how about we start by putting together the staircase?”

The next few hours pass surprisingly quickly.  As they assemble different pieces of the set, Stiles talks about why he loves kids and how he chose teaching, adding in some hilarious stories about shows he’s put on in the past.  He gets Derek to talk about his freelance writing job, the things he and Tara do for fun, and the sports he played in college.

At lunchtime, Stiles pulls out three sandwiches from a cooler he brought with him.  He looks over at Tara, who has fallen asleep mid-coloring on the auditorium floor.

“Leave her,” Derek says. “She can eat when she wakes up.”

They sit down together, leaning against the staircase they assembled that morning.

“She’s a great kid,” Stiles says before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Derek smiles, looking over at her small form, breathing softly on the floor. “I know,” he says fondly, warmth blooming in his chest.

“I really mean it,” Stiles says. “She’s got a great energy, but she’s well-behaved.  And she’s very talented. Plus she’s incredibly cute.”  He glances over at Derek before saying, “Wonder where she gets that from.”

Derek feels himself blush and attempts to redirect the conversation. “She’s pretty awesome,” he admits.

Stiles toys with his sandwich nervously. “You don’t have to answer, but…do you mind if I ask where her mom is?”

Derek hesitates, picking at his own sandwich wrapper before replying cautiously. “She’s dead,” he says.

Stiles reaches out and places a warm hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers gently.

Derek shakes his head. “No. I mean, I’m sorry that she won’t have a mom. But…I’m not sorry that she won’t be in her life.  She wasn’t…a good person.  She’d already decided not to be involved long before she died.”

Stiles doesn’t pry, which Derek is grateful for.

“Well, lucky she’s got such a great dad then, huh?” Stiles replies with a small smile.  He nudges Derek’s foot with his own, and Derek smiles and takes another bite of his sandwich.

They get back to work after that, assembling the last few pieces of the set with 15 minutes to spare before the dress rehearsal starts.

“Thanks so much, man,” Stiles says. “Seriously, I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for giving up your Saturday.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s fine. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”  He pauses before adding, “The company wasn’t so bad either.”

Stiles grins at him. “Want to stay and watch the rehearsal?”

Derek shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t want any spoilers,” he jokes

Stiles laughs and waves him off as Derek heads out the door.

 —

When Derek comes back to pick Tara up, Stiles comes out to the car with her.  Derek rolls down his window, and Stiles hands him a piece of paper.  “Here’s your ticket for tomorrow,” he says a little bit nervously.

“Thanks,” Derek says. 

“Tomorrow!” Tara calls from the backseat.

Stiles laughs. “That’s right, my Belle, tomorrow! And you’re gonna be so great!”

He turns back to Derek. “Thanks again for today. See ya.”  He steps away from the car and Derek drives awayy with Tara singing a booming rendition of “Be Our Guest,” in the backseat.

 —

When Derek arrives at the show the next day, he ushers Tara backstage, getting her into the hands of one of the stage moms before going to find his seat.  He’s surprised to find that it’s in the very front row.  Five minutes before the show is scheduled to begin, Stiles slides into the empty seat next to him.

“Hey,” Stiles says.  He looks paler than usual, and his fingers are tapping ceaselessly on his thighs.

“Hi,” Derek responds, surprised. “Don’t you have to be…directing or something?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope. The music is pre-recorded and I’ve got parents backstage telling kids when to go on. My only role now is to sit here and enjoy it. Unless something goes wrong. Oh God, what if something goes wrong. I really don’t think we rehearsed that boat scene enough.”

Derek reaches a hand out and places it over Stiles’ jittering one.  “ _Stiles_ ,” he says, “It’s going to be fine.”

Stiles glances up at him, then down at their hands. “You’re right. It’s fine. We rehearsed enough.  They know what they’re doing.” He squeezes Derek’s hand for a second before Derek pulls it back.

“Besides,” Derek teases, “It’s just a kids show.”

“You’re going to regret saying that an hour from now.” Stiles retorts.

The house lights go down and Stiles scrunches down in his seat. “Oh God. I think I’m going to throw up,” he groans.

Derek reaches his hand out and takes Stiles’ hand again.  This time, he doesn’t let go.

The curtains open a few minutes later and Tara walks out onto stage. And she’s  _beautiful_.  Her hair is curled even more than usual, she’s adorned in a beautiful blue dress, and Derek is completely captivated.  He’s pretty sure his mouth is hanging wide open in awe. He gets confirmation when he feels Stiles hand squeeze his. 

Derek spends the rest of the show watching from the edge of his seat. Tara is spectacular.  He might be a little bit biased, but he’s pretty sure she’s the cutest Belle he’s ever seen. The faces she makes, the body language she acts with; she is a complete star.  Derek grins throughout the entire show, and he periodically feels Stiles’ eyes on him, watching for his reaction.  Derek’s so enraptured, though, that it doesn’t even bother him.

And then, Tara sings. She comes out on stage dressed in winter furs as she begins her solo. And Derek is completely overwhelmed.  That’s  _his_  little girl up there, hitting those notes, singing so well and so boldly, and he is just so, so  _proud_.  There is nothing he can do to stop the flood of tears that suddenly start spilling out of his eyes.

He feels Stiles’ hand shift beneath his, moving until their fingers are interlocked. Derek squeezes his hand tightly in response.

When the show ends, Derek is the first one of of his seat when Tara comes out for her curtain call.  She comes running off stage and straight into his arms.

“You were so good!” he tells her. “The best Belle I’ve ever seen!”

“Really daddy?” she shrieks excitedly.

“Yes! You were  _amazing_ ,” he says, squeezing her tightly. 

Tara plants a kiss on his cheek and squeals.  “I wanted it to be  _extra_  good for you. So did Mr. Stiles. He told me so.”

Derek looks over at Stiles, who is blushing furiously and looking sheepishly at the ground.  Stiles runs a hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, you kept saying it was just a silly school show, so, I just wanted to prove you wrong…”

“Hey,” Derek says to Tara. “Know what movie I think we should watch next week?”

“What?” Tara cries.

“The Little Mermaid.”

Tara raises both arms in the air and lets out a loud “ _Yes!”_

“Know what else?” Derek asks.

“What?” Tara repeats.

“I think Mr. Stiles should come, too.  If he wants to.”

“YAY!” Tara yells. “Now, daddy, put me down. I want to go hug Cogsworth.”

Derek chuckles and sets her back down, watching her dodge her way through the crowd.

“So what do you say?” he asks, looking back at Stiles. “Will you come next week?”

Stiles reaches a hand out and takes Derek’s own. “Okay,” he says, smilingly widely. He takes a step closer and asks, “So…was I right?

Derek frowns at him in confusion. “Right about what?”

Stiles smiles even wider. “Was it worth it?”

Derek looks down at where their hands are joined, looks across the room at Tara’s beaming face, then looks back up at Stiles’ warm eyes staring intently at his own. “Yeah,” he says, “It was worth it.”


End file.
